


Not What I Meant To Say

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Kiss, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Fluff, Mary Ships It, POV Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, Sherlock's Birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:23:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5496944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the last year Sherlock and Molly have slowly been distancing themselves from each other, but on his birthday a mistaken choice of words from Molly brings them back together in a way neither of them could have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not What I Meant To Say

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vonPeeps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonPeeps/gifts).



> So my friend **vonPeeps** needed some cheering up and wanted some Sherlolly fluff and I saw I had a really great prompt from **otpprompts** that went " _It’s Person A’s birthday, and Person B goes to them to tell them happy birthday, but accidentally blurts out 'I love you.' (Bonus if they’re not together yet.) What Person A does is up to you._ " Hopefully this is nice and fluffy for you even if it's a _teeny_ bit angsty at first.

She wasn’t sure why she had come to be quite honest. It wasn’t like he had even _wanted_ to have a birthday party; he had asked everyone to forget he had a birthday this year, and she had done as he had asked but then John and Mary had said no, they were going to throw Sherlock a surprise celebration and she _had_ to be there. So she had come, but to be honest? She felt just as miserable as the guest of honor looked.

It had been a rather difficult year. After the incident at the labs, after Christmas and what had happened that day, after what happened the day he was supposed to go away, she and Sherlock had become a bit more distant, for want of a better term. They were still friendly, still _friends_ , she supposed, but it was all…complicated. There were other feelings there, things they ignored, that they didn’t talk about. And it had been almost a whole bloody year and it had been festering and she’d just been edging away and he hadn’t tried to stop her.

It was almost like he didn’t care.

She sighed and took a sip of the punch. She knew John and Mary meant well. They saw this wall between her and Sherlock was hurting her. She had no idea if it was hurting him or not, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. She’d been at the party for nearly an hour and he hadn’t made it a point to come talk to her, and really, she could be doing other things. So maybe she should go wish him a happy birthday and then say her good-byes and go home. Have a large glass of wine and go watch a depressing movie. Maybe have a good cry. Call an ex-flame and have a regret shag? No, no. _That_ would be a bad idea. But the wine and movies sounded like just the ticket.

She set her punch down, picked up her gift and made her way towards Sherlock, only to run into Mary. “Having a good time?” Mary asked with a smile.

“Not really?” Molly said.

Mary’s smile faltered a moment, and then she sighed. “Yeah. Sherlock’s glower is putting a damper on the whole thing.”

“He didn’t want a party,” Molly said, watching Mary taking another sip of her punch before making a face and setting it down. “I’m sure he knows you both meant well, but…”

“We’d just hoped to bring a smile to his face, at least,” Mary said, taking a bite of one of the finger foods they had out. “He’s been so…down. So _depressed_. Like he’s lost his best mate _and_ been kicked while he’s down.”

“John’s talking to him though, right?” Molly asked, frowning.

“Oh, John’s spending loads of time with him,” Mary said. “At least three times a week John’s over at Baker Street. And he says all Sherlock does is sit and mope. It’s concerning. We’d hoped this would do something for him.” Mary looked over at Sherlock, who was standing by the window, staring out. “Oh, well. Best make your wishes known and then say your good-byes. I doubt you want to be around him when he’s like this. Doubt anyone does.” She moved away from Molly then leaving her to her thoughts.

Molly studied him. Was Sherlock depressed? Granted, she’d spent more time moping around her flat the last year, but at least she went out. She did things. She went to the cinemas, to the occasional play, to concerts. She lived life and all. She didn’t sequester herself inside and shut off the world. Didn’t he know by now that people cared? That people had always cared? That she—?

But she hadn’t shown she cared.

She had pushed him away.

And the truth of it all was, she cared so much. She cared so much she ended her engagement to another man because she knew it wasn’t fair to him that she even considered kissing Sherlock still, that she considered doing _anything_ with Sherlock. She knew it wasn’t fair that Sherlock still had any piece of her heart. Or hell, maybe he had a piece of her soul. She really didn’t know at this point. All she knew was that she was, quite possibly, in love with Sherlock and it had scared her to the point she’d pushed him away for the last year.

And she was still scared, damn it.

She was still so scared to tell him because he had let her push him away. He hadn’t tried to come after her.

She sighed and made her way towards him. Original plan was best. Wish him a happy birthday. Make her good-byes, go home and commiserate her cowardice with wine and sad movies. “Sherlock?” she said when she got close enough.

“Yes?” he asked quietly, not turning to look at her.

“I love you.” Her eyes went wide as soon as she realized what she had said, though she doubted they were as wide as Sherlock’s eyes when he turned to look at her. “I mean… I was going to say happy birthday…I _meant_ to say happy birthday, not…I mean, I…” She stopped talking as he moved closer to her invading her personal space, and she looked up at him.

He reached over and took the gift out of her hand, setting it on the windowsill. His eyes got less wide and the expression on his face grew more curious and almost…hopeful? He actually looked hopeful. Her heart seemed caught in her throat. “Did you mean it, though?” he asked, taking her hands in his.

She nodded slowly, not taking her eyes off his. “Yes,” she managed to get out. “I…do…love you, Sherlock.”

He let go of her hands after a moment and then gently framed her face in his hands before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. She shut her eyes as she kissed him back, her hands moving to the front of his shirt to hold on for dear life as the kiss began to move from sweet and tender territory to something much more passionate. She didn’t even care if they were garnering an audience. Nothing mattered in this moment except the face that Sherlock Holmes was kissing her. It seemed far too soon for her taste that he was pulling away, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones. “I love you too, Molly,” he said softly, his lips hovering above hers. She felt filled with warmth and then pulled him in for another kiss, dimly aware of applause from the side. This, she realized, was something they should have done _ages_ ago, but she had the feeling they would make up for the time that they had wasted, mark her words.


End file.
